First. Part 1

FIRST.

By KIM PRITEKEL.

Disclaimers: These two really nifty ladies are strictly a figment of my overactive imagination, so don't get too excited.

Subtext: Yup. These here ladies are of an alternative nature. Ain't it cool?

Violence: Nah. Not unless you view catching a few fish as cruel and violent.

Language: There may be some, but nothing extremely horrible.

Note: This story does somewhat contain the Kleenex factor at times. Especially the end, so do be prepared.

Copyright 2001 Kim Pritekel For Jen. I love you, and hurry home!.

FIRST.

PART 1.

THE LINE HUNG silent on my end.

"Emmy? Are you there?" my big brother Billy asked, worry marking his deep voice.

"Yeah, Billy I'm here. Are you sure? Dead?" I could not bring myself to believe that she could possibly be gone at only thirty-four. What did he say she had died of? Breast cancer? Couldn't be. She's far too young for that. Isn't she? "I have to go, Billy. Someone is calling in on the other line." I lied.

"Okay, Emmy. I'm sorry I had to call you at work. Are you sure you're okay? I mean I know you two had been such good friends when you were kids and all."

Friends. If only they had known the truth about Beth and I. Wiping those thoughts and memories from my mind I said, "That's okay. I'm glad you told me. Thanks Billy."

"Yeah. Hey, come home now and then. I know they give you parole now and then in The Big Apple." I grinned into the phone.

"Yeah. Now and then. Bye, Billy."

I gently set the receiver into its cradle and sat back in my chair and looked around my cramped office. I was an up and coming lawyer at the law firm of James/Parks/Stone where I had worked my b.u.t.t off to win the favor of the s.e.xist partners over my male peers. Not an easy task, but one I performed with gusto..

Perhaps I would take some personal time off and go to the funeral. I was due for some time off anyway. I would catch a flight out to Denver, Colorado, and head south to Pueblo where I grew up, and had not been for some time. I could still see all the neat rows of modest sized homes, all painted similar colors. Gray barbecue smokes wafting up over the six-foot wood privacy fences. The perfect Norman Rockwell neighborhood. The town held nothing for me anymore. Not that it ever really did. But it had been awhile since I'd seen my parents and Billy. His kids were growing up so fast. He may have even had a daughter that I'd never seen.

I stood from my desk and walked over to the window that looked out over a park that was next to the building, and watched as a man was walked by his overly enthusiastic Great Dane. The last time I had seen Beth had been in that park. I rested my forehead against the cool gla.s.s. She had come up to New York to see me, and the short visit had been uncomfortable and strained at best. I remember how tired she had looked. Thin, too, which made her tall frame seem lanky and gaunt. I realized then that that day would be one of those that can haunt a person for the rest of their lives. What if. I sighed. I didn't believe in what ifs. If did nothing to worry and think of all the things that were over and done with, and could not be changed. But still....

With a sigh I turned back to the pile of files and papers on my desk. I really ought to clean it up. I smiled to myself. Never could keep my mind on one thing. Suddenly with the force of a blow to the stomach I plopped down into my chair, a malformed sob ripping from my throat. I gripped the arms of my chair with a fierceness that surprised me, and closed my eyes. I squeezed them tight as I fought the emotion that was trying to make its way to the surface. Finally I could breath again. After a couple of deep breaths I had myself under control again, and decided that maybe it was best to start that personal time today. I sent a quick email to John Stone, one of the senior partners, explaining my sudden departure, gathered my belongings and headed toward the door.

"Ms. Thomas?" my secretary, Lois asked as I locked and closed my office door, suit jacket and briefcase in hand.

"I'm leaving for the day, Lois. If anyone calls please transfer them to my voice mail. If any of the partners wish to speak with me then transfer them to my home phone. It's in the Rolodex."

"Why certainly, Ms. Thomas. Is everything all right? You look a bit out of sorts today. Are you feeling all right? Shall I call Ms. Kelly?" Lois Wutherman, my trusted secretary of two years was a kind, older woman who had been born and raised in London until she moved to the U.S. with her husband after World War II, or what she called "the big one". She looked at me with her large brown eyes hidden behind enormous bifocals, her silver hair piled on top of her head. I often wondered just how long her hair actually was, though she never, ever wore it down. Probably thinking it was in bad form for a lady. I smiled to myself at the thought.

"No, I'm fine. That's not necessary. I've just got some personal business to take care of." I said, though for just a moment I fought the urge to perch at the corner of her desk, and spill my guts to this kind woman who had mothered me through disappointments at work, fights with my lover, and a car accident two years ago. But for some reason this I could not share with her.

"Well," she said taking one of my hands in both of hers and patting it in her usual motherly way said, "Whatever it is t'will all be fine." she smiled as she could read the strain in my green eyes, and see that annoying wrinkle that appeared between them and gave away my stress level.

"Thank you, Lois. I'm sure it will." with a deep breath I walked past her desk, out of the office and past the receptionists desk to leave the firm all together. The early afternoon air of downtown New York hit my face and nostrils with an intense force, the cool autumn air sharp and biting. I found my car and pressed the b.u.t.ton on the little alarm box on my key chain, releasing the locks with a chirp. I climbed behind the wheel, and tossed my briefcase and jacket onto the seat next to me, stared out at the busy street, my hands placed on the wheel, my mind in another place, another time. Beth. I could still see the expectant look in those blue eyes as she stared at me, standing next to the park bench.

"What, don't I even rate a hug?"

I shook my head to clear it, and turned on the engine.

I shared a modest townhouse on the outskirts of the city with my lover, Rebecca. It was s.p.a.cious with big windows to allow all the sunlight of the day. The brick-faced front opened up to a small yard, the autumn yellow gra.s.s lining the driveway on either side. Come spring, flowers would be popping up in the planters that Rebecca had scattered around the yard.

My black Persian, Simon met me at the door, his thick tail waving in confusion at my being home so early.

"Hi, baby." I crooned as I picked up his considerable bulk, rubbing my cheek against the soft fur of his neck. After a few moments of greeting Simon let me know he'd had enough and fought my tight embrace. I let him down to return to one of his numerous daily naps, and headed for the kitchen. I could not get Beth out of my head. Why? Why hadn't she told me that she had been sick when she had the chance? I could feel my shock begin to succ.u.mb to anger. I walked over to the sink and leaned on its st.u.r.dy surface, my head hanging. I could feel the tears welling up in my throat, wanting to spill forth and overtake me completely. The myriad of emotions was overwhelming. I fought the urge, but suddenly my cheeks were wet with the onslaught of tears that ran down my face and landed into the stainless steel double sink. PLOP. PLOP. My pain and self-pity were interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone that lay on the counter by the Mr. Coffee. I decided to let the machine pick up.

"h.e.l.lo you have reached Emily and Rebecca. We cannot come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep and we will get back to you as soon as possible." Beep.

"Yes, this message is for Emily. Hi this is William Parks, and your secretary told me-" I pushed away from the sink, and wiped at my eyes as I walked toward the cordless.

"Hi, Bill." I said s.n.a.t.c.hing up the receiver. "Yes, I did. We have had a death in the family, and I had some personal time coming,-"

"Of course, of course. By all means take care of you. The criminals of New York will wait." Parks said with one of his famously fake laughs. "You take all the time you need. These things can be so difficult." he lowered his voice for a more dramatic affect. I fought the urge to tell him to stick his pity up his a.s.s. Bill Parks cared about no one and nothing but Bill Parks. He was one of my bosses, so I thanked him for his kind words and a.s.sured him that John Dithers would take on my Holstead case in my absence. I was grateful to hang up with the pretentious, pompous man. He was my least favorite of all three senior partners. The kind of lawyer that jokes are made about.

I tuned off the ringer and walked over to the fridge. The remains of our left over linguini stared me in the face as did the two-day-old pizza, still in its blue and white Domino's box. Disgusted with the thought of food I walked over to the living room, and plopped myself down on the couch, my hands lying limply next to me. I stared out the French doors out into the small backyard. I felt so empty, as if all my insides had been taken out, and I was left with nothing. I sighed deeply, then an idea occurred to me. I walked to the hall closet, and on tiptoe reached up and grabbed the three white photo alb.u.ms that had been the source of much comfort in my life, as well as painful reminders. I felt a need to delve into the past, a past when Beth Sayers was still alive. A time when she was my best friend, my lover, my confidante, and just my neighbor. I felt a need to rediscover this woman who had stolen my heart, and had never given it back.

With sweating palms I carefully flipped open the cover, almost as if I were entering a sacred realm. The first half of my photo alb.u.m was filled with baby pictures of Billy, and then four years later of me. Me at age three heading to my first day of ballet lessons, which from what I am told I hated, but my mother thought I looked so darn cute in my white tights and pink tutu. There is a picture of Billy and me dressed up for Halloween. The caption said he was nine and I was five. I don't remember ever wanting to dress as a princess, but I guess at some time I must have felt the urge. There I was holding my trick or treat bag with Billy dressed as a sheriff holding my hand, impatient smiles plastered on our cherubic faces. Ah! Now that one is more like me. I was sitting in the middle of a large sandbox with some little red headed girl that I don't remember at all, a large green bucket of sand forever poised over that mane of red hair. I had to smile despite my dead heart beating limply in my chest.

Skipping a few years I finally came across the time when Beth came into my life. It did not seem like there was ever a time when she wasn't. Now I would never hear her wild laugh again; never see those twinkling blue eyes looking with so much love into my own green eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again to stare down at us. In the beginning it had been me who had pursued her for a friendship. During the summer of my tenth year many of the families in the neighborhood had decided to move, taking most of my friends with them. The Sayers' family moved into the house next door with their nine, soon to be ten year old daughter, Elizabeth, who refused to answer to anything other than Beth. She was a shy girl, and later told me that I had intimidated her, though why I never understood. Finally as the summer slowly crawled by with nothing to do and no one to do it with, she agreed to walk over that sacred boundary between their small, green postage stamp lawn, and our small, green postage stamp lawn and we played four square. From that day on the two of us had been glued hip to hip.

I turned the page to reveal us standing in front of my childhood home, the garage open to show the old Dodge my father refused to give up, and still had, except it isn't gold anymore, it's an interesting shade of avocado green. My father never did have any color sense. In the picture I was wearing an old football jersey that Billy had outgrown and handed down to a tom boy sister. My dark blonde hair half-hazardly pulled back into a ponytail. My knees had two painful looking sc.r.a.pes on them that were just beginning to scab over. I was linked arm in arm with Beth who was wearing that Mickey Mouse shirt that I swear she would have worn day in and day out if her mother would have let her. We had great big goofy smiles on our darkly tanned faces. So young. So carefree. I read the caption that my mother had so neatly written below the Polaroid- Emmy and Beth 4th of July, 1977. That was our second summer together. That was also the year we kissed for the first time.

I looked up from the photo alb.u.m suddenly aware that I was hungry. Putting the alb.u.m aside, I went to the kitchen and made myself a PBJ- peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly, the food of choice. I had not had one of these things since college! Looking at all these old pictures was bringing the child out in me. I smiled and shook my head.

With sandwich and can of Dr. Pepper in hand I grabbed the photo alb.u.ms off the coffee table, and plopped us all down on the floor. I got to my knees and unzipped my gray, pinstriped skirt, and pushed it down over my hips, then sat to remove it and toss it aside, followed by my nylons. Sitting in my camisole and underwear I looked at some of the other pictures on that page: Emmy and Beth at the zoo; Emmy and Beth in the pool; Emmy and Beth and Billy playing basketball. Then I saw it. The night of the school play and Beth's first starring role. It was a silly little play called "Who Calls the Wild Wylde?" about a family by the name of Wylde who lived in the backwoods town of Looneyville. Beth played the son, Joseph Wylde. That year she discovered her zest and love of acting. In one scene her character had to give Miss Thelma Rooster a peck on the cheek, and she decided she wanted to practice. On me.

Beth was spending the night at my house the weekend before the show. We were up in my bedroom running my extensive collection of matchbox cars all over the many roads and highways, and stopping at all the good places to eat, and visiting all of our many friends along the way. Suddenly she stopped, tiny white VW Bug in hand.

"Let's practice!" she said, her eyes wide with this new idea she had.

"Practice what?" I asked as I rammed my truck into the post of my bed causing a great avalanche of rock and other such debris to fall from that ma.s.sive mountain that was in the middle of our town.

"Practice my scene with me and Thelma Rooster." I could feel my stomach tighten with a strange sort of excitement. I just looked at her as if to say, are you serious?, though I knew she was, and I prayed deep down that she wouldn't change her mind. So I said, "Which one?"

"You know, the one where I have to," she looked back over her shoulder to make sure my parents or Billy was not listening through my closed door. "Where I have to kiss her."

"Why? You know how to kiss. You do have a father after all."

"Yeah, but that's different. He's a boy, this is a girl."

"But you're playing a boy, so it's the same thing."

"No it's not! And I don't kiss him like he's my girlfriend." She said matter of factly.

"I hope not!" I giggled, liking this game of playing hard to get.

"Come on, Em!" she said eyeing me with those intense blue eyes that even at the tender age of eleven threw my senses out of whack, and would make me agree to anything.

"Okay. But first wait." I threw my forgotten car on the floor and ran to the door. I opened it ever so slightly and looked at as much of the hallway as I could then shut the door and leaned my huge, trusty brown teddy, Ruffles against it to guard us. Next I went over to my window and shut my blue pastel curtains and then walked to my original spot and sat cross-legged in front of Beth.

"Gee. You'd think we were hiding in Fort Knox." she said.

"What's that?"

"Never mind. Okay. You have the first line." she said, looking at me expectantly.

I don't know what the line is."

"Oh yeah. Okay, you look away from me and try to be all lady like and fl.u.s.tered because you're in my presence." I stifled another giggle. "Then you say, 'Well good morning, Joseph Wylde. How are you on this bright and sunny day?'"

"Well good morning, Joseph Wylde. How are you on this bright and sunny day?" I asked batting my eyelashes at her. Real serious like Beth grabbed my hand and brought it to her full lips, and just barely brushed my knuckles. A bolt of excitement raced up and down my spine. I didn't remember Joseph doing that to Thelma in rehearsal, but I didn't say anything. I would let Beth do whatever she wanted to. After all, she was the acting expert, not me.

"Thelma Rooster you are looking lovely as always. Why are you out here all alone?"

"Oohh! I remember this line!" I exclaimed. "Mother's gone inside the store, Joseph."

Beth smiled at me and nodded, then said, "Good. Then you say, 'But you can walk me home if you like. I'm sure she'd be understanding of my taking my leave with such a kind gentleman like yourself.'" I began to repeat the line when she stopped me and pulled me to my feet. "Let's really act it out." she grabbed my hand and put it through her bent arm and held my hand with her other one. "Your bedroom door will be the door to your house, okay?" I nodded than proceeded to say my line quite nicely I thought. We walked along our path until finally she stopped short of the door to my "house".

"It has been an honor to walk with you Thelma, that is, may I call you Thelma?" not knowing what to say, and Beth seemed to be a bit too much in character to remember to tell me so I just nodded. She smiled at me and released my hand from her arm. Her breath came in shallow puffs of air as her body came closer to mine. I was nervous, scared and excited all at the same time. She rested her hands on my shoulders then moved her head closer to mine. I was surprised when our lips met. I had been expecting her to kiss me on the cheek. My blood began to pound through my veins with enough electricity to short out all my thoughts. I had seen a woman close her eyes once in a movie when she was kissed by the man. Thinking this must be the correct procedure, I closed mine and sighed.

When the kiss ended Beth pulled away and looked me in the eye. A look of wonderment filled her face. I was almost breathless, and certainly speechless. I had never kissed anyone before except my parents, and my Aunt Kitty who insisted on giving me a big wet one every time I saw her, which was often. I had never liked any of those kisses. This was different, and I think we both knew it. She rolled a tendril of my summer-lightened hair around one of her fingers that still rested on my shoulders and smiled.

"Can we rehea.r.s.e again?" she said quietly. I could only nod. She took one of her hands and brushed some fallen hair off my forehead and brought her face to mine again. This time I wrapped my thin arms around her neck and leaned into her. My rock. Beth would always be the strong one.

The play met with critical acclaim among the fifth grade cla.s.s. Mrs. Arbuckle thought Beth's performance "Much too dramatic for such a cheerful story." What did she know? Beth was not cast again until middle school.

I turned the page. I saw more school pictures of us, and snapshots taken at home. Did my mother have nothing better to do than run after us with a camera? As a kid if never occurred to me that she took a ton of pictures. Now, it took an act of G.o.d to get me in front of that lens.

As the years went by Beth became more and more detached from her peers, especially the girls. The only way she would have anything to do with them, or talk to them was if they would challenge her or me, or make fun of either of us, or if some other girl had been the target of the ma.s.ses. Then she became a champion of anyone who became the "underdog" If an injustice was being done, she would not hesitate to fight anyone, which she did often. Beth could most often be found with the boys. She was incredible when it came to basketball, or running, or any other game involving physical activity.. I smiled as I remembered Beth's slam-dunks.

"Come on, Em. Don't be such a wimp. Take the ball, run up the court, and jump. Slam it in there." I stared at Beth like she had just landed from another planet.

"Beth, have you forgotten that you're the one who is a hundred feet tall? I'm short, remember?"

"So." she said as she ran by me, whacking the ball out of my hand, and dribbling it down the cement until she pushed up on her left leg, and slammed the ball into the net with a satisfying whoosh. "It's not about height, Em. It's about ability." she landed with a smug smile on her face, her eyes daring me. I raised my brows. She knew I could never refuse a dare.

"Fine. I'll show you height. And I'll show you ability." I grabbed the ball that continued to bounce down the court, and ran.

"I'm so sorry, Em. I really thought you could do it." my best friend said as she sat next to me on our front porch, my mother holding the towel to my nose. I glared at her with my black eye.

Beth had a difficult home life. Her parents married when her mother became pregnant at the tender age of sixteen. Beth's father, Jim always made known his doubts that Beth was even his. But I believed he loved her. He raised her as his, and Beth loved him dearly. Her parents remained married until she turned thirteen, then deciding that he could no longer tolerate Beth's mother's tirades and drinking, her father left the family to return to his home state of Tennessee. Beth did not see him for years at a time.

To stay away from her house and the steadily increasing abuse of her mother, Beth would come over to mine, and I think in her mind she saw my mother and father as her own. Billy loved her. In his eyes it was almost like having the younger brother he had always wanted. Beth and I would lay out on my back lawn and stare up into the night sky trying to count all the stars we could see. She would often cry silently, the tears just flowing down her cheeks, rolling down the sides of her face to collect in her ears. She would shiver, and blame it on the cool night air.

I had to give my mother credit. She tried to be everything that Nora Sayers wasn't. She coddled her, taught her things, and showed her that Beth counted, and was loved. By all of us. Beth clung to that sense of security, wrapping it around herself like a blanket.

I came across a picture of the three of us on a fishing trip just before the Sayers' separated. Billy had just turned seventeen, so my parents decided to give him a chance to prove himself responsible by taking his thirteen year old sister and her twelve year old best friend fishing.

"I am not going to bait anything for you two, so you better get over that squeamish girl stuff, and learn to do it yourself." he scolded as we backed out of the driveway of my house. I looked at Beth who sat with me in the back seat of our huge Suburban with a look of doubt sp.a.w.ned by fear on my face. She smiled at me. I felt my fears melt away.

"I don't need no one tying on my worms if that's what you mean. Heck no. I bet I could do it better than you anyway!" she said proudly.

"Girls." Billy mumbled to himself, though through the rear-view mirror I could see the small smile play across his maturing face.

After a long three hour drive we finally reached Carter Lake and found a good place to stay for the night. The area was completely surrounded by huge, beautiful trees. Beth and I got out of the car and made a slow circle of the area. The day was warm, but the shade of so many trees made it absolutely incredible with endless shade. The maze of trees and vegetation went on and on, and any number of adventures could be played out.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Beth asked mischievously. I gave her a smile and said, "See you later, Billy!" I grabbed her hand, and we ran toward the thicket of dense fantasy.

"Hey! You guys gotta help me!" my brother yelled.

"We're just girls! We can't do it anyway!" Beth yelled as we disappeared into the forest, our giggles the only clue we were there.

After a bit we stopped running for fear of running head long into a tree trunk. We walked hand in hand looking at the incredible beauty of G.o.d's planet. The hillside was sloped slightly, the ground soft from recent rains. We stepped over fallen trees, and ducked under low branches. I looked up in wonder at the huge trees, so stoic in their existence. Chipmunks called warnings to each other, mosquitoes and b.u.t.terflies fluttered about our heads.

"I think we should live here forever. Never go back to school, never get jobs when we get older. Just stay here and live off the land like Tarzan." I said wistfully.

"Me Tarzan, you Jane." Beth said pounding her developing b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her fist. I giggled.

"No way. Me Tarzan, and you Jane."

"Uhunh. I want to wear the loin cloth." We walked on in silence. "No I think we should be more like Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer." She said after a few moments.

"I want to be Huck Finn!" I exclaimed thinking of the possibilities.